Squeeze The Lemons And Hand Me The Vodka

12:34pm From The Car

Half an hour until court, and I am one bundle of nerves. I’m normally so confident. But right now? You’d think I was facing death row or something.
My tummy is a huge knot. And all sorts of bubbly. Not good.

I know this shouldn’t be a big deal. It really isn’t. But I’m worried about if we don’t win. Will they take my dog away? Where will we get the money to pay the vet bill AND the court fees? With Roman being laid off and Chazz’s medical bills, even with pinching every penny, we still don’t break even most months.

Worry worry worry. Aaagh! But it will be okay. And over!

“It will be okay in the end. If it’s not ok, it’s not the end.”

Man I love that quote.

I just hope it will go our way. And it will truly be The End.


3:40 From My Comfy Chair

Well. It’s over. We lost. But… I’m alive! And it’s over!

I won’t bore you with lamesauce details, but basically we said we would pay the vet bill, and still have to.

In order to get our deposit back, we have to file a seperate claim (or had filed a counter claim) to sue for our deposit.

Which at this point I don’t even wanna bother! All of that extra time and effort would be best used with Chazz Man.

And it’s over and done with {whew!} and the stress of it all can just go away with it!


Now where’s my lemonaid??


So. Tomorrow I’m Being Sued…


::throws confetti::

Not something people are ordinarily excited about, I know. But I’m just happy it will all be over with and our 2010 can officially come to a close.

It’s no big deal, really. You know, just your typical small claims, my-dog-bit-my-EX-landlord’s-ankle-biter-rat-dog ordeal.

Buy I’m done worrying about it. D.O.N.E. y’all.

I’m just going to use it as a tool to teach myself to take things a little less seriously. Because I kinda have a habit of taking things way WAY too seriously!

Like my friend says, “They can’t take your birthday away!”

Which is really a comforting thought when you think about it.
(Can you imagine? O_o )

Just so you know (and don’t think I’m a horrible person) *my* dog was on a leash, I offered to pay the vet bill (and still would), and I’m only slightly “dogist” towards little dogs. “-)

But after we moved out (because it was Awkward with a capital “A”), they kept my $600 deposit fo’ no reason. No reason, people!

Coincidence?? I think not!!!

I felt/still feel a tad slighted.

And since I am the hard-headed “oh no he di’nt!” crazy woman that I am. I have not paid the vet bill I probably should have paid back in, oh, August….


How’s that for leading by example? Way to go, Mom of the Year, I know. Do I get a sticker?

But at least I can admit when I’m in the wrong. And offer to fix it. Now I just have to get them to admit it too so I feel better can get my deposit back.

And maybe pay the vet bill.

And move on with life. And 2011.

So this year?

I’m taking the abundance of lemons life loves to throw at us and making some vodka and lemonade.

And wish us some luck?

You can leave a comment (please do!), read more about us, or even vote for Forever&After by clicking the banner below.

Effing Eff. And Blood Work

Chazz’s blood work came back. Not normal. Low levels of growth hormone. Which would help explain why he’s in the 2nd percentile.

They’re going to “keep tabs.”

(Gee, fucking thanks.)

I don’t know what this means. For him. For us. For anything.

All I know is that I don’t want to talk about it. Or deal with anymore of this Optic Nerve Hypoplasia bullshit.

For now, it’s just snuggle time with my handsome little peanut. My pen and notebook to vent. And a nice bottle of wine Roman picked up for me.

Oh, and a pillow. To scream into. And possible smother myself in… I don’t know yet.

*Sorry for the fowl language. I try not to swear in public. Tonight? I just don’t care anymore.*

Mommy Rant

Can I just say something here?

I am getting really FRACKIN’ tired of people commenting on how small Chazz is. At the grocery store. The coffee shop. Random kids at church?

Anytime I’m asked how old he is, it is NINE TIMES OUT OF TEN followed by a comment on his size. The other one of ten must have a brain. Or tact. Decency, maybe? Should I go on?

Do I point out your child, with snot running down his nose to his ankles? No. Do I comment on your size? Even if I find both to be repulsive. No. I keep my mouth shut. *Because I care.* {And it’s much more fun to rant about it on my blog teehee ,-) }

And is it really that much of a surprise to begin with? I mean I’m a whole FIVE FEET TALL and a whopping 100 pounds soaking wet. And my husband? Well, he won’t be sumo wrestling or tossing assists to Shaq in this lifetime. SO WHY IS IT HARD….

to make the mental connection that Chazz’s size seems pretty in proportion to the (amazing) person that GREW-and-then-BIRTHED him? Strange, is it?


So next time you feel the urge to comment, hold your tongue because it just might be my baby in that grocery cart, and this mama *might* just lose it!

And for the record. It is RUDE to make ANY comment on someone’s size. Big. Small. Whatever. Just sayin’….

(Whew. I feel a little better.)